


Second Chances

by SmallSith



Category: Homestuck, petstuck - Fandom
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Medical Abuse, Original Character(s), Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Petstuck, animal testing, no canon characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallSith/pseuds/SmallSith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Myra Arkensi, and when you opened your door in the middle of the night to the sound of crying and frantic scrabbling, you thought nothing good could come of it. But the soggy, battered troll you found cowering on your porch was definitely not what you expected,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. MYRA

It wasn't quite two in the morning when Myra was awoken from a very strange dream. In it, she had been trying to convince a clown who only spoke Russian that no, she really didn't want a life-size balloon animal of a tiger that was also somehow a real tiger. She very much did not want it. But the clown smiled serenely and chattered away amicably in Russian and kept insisting that she accept the balloon animal, and no amount of protesting could stop him from trying to force it into her arms.

At first, sitting up in bed, she wasn't sure what had woken her up. The rain pattered faintly against the roof in a soothing staccato, but then it came again. Some sort of noise, she couldn't identify. But as she pushed off the covers and headed into the hallway, she heard it again- a faint but insistent scratching sound, followed by a weak thumping. As she crept down the stairs and padded cautiously through the living room, she could hear it more clearly and realized it was coming from the front door.

She made a face, nose wrinkling and mouth scrunching up, assuming that it was yet _another_ person sent from the power company, or the phone company, or the gas company, or any of the other companies clamoring over the Arkens household's numerous unpaid bills. It struck her as odd that one would come so late at night, but she had met some very odd collection people in the past four years that she'd been routinely dodging them, and it wouldn't be the first time one had showed up at some strange hour with a bill they demanded she pay.

Still, he grumbled and opened the door anyway, about to tell the representative here to harass her to get lost, but when the door swung open, there was no one there.

Confused and more than a little unnerved, she looked around. She was about to step back and shut the door when something lying crumpled on the concrete stoop caught her eye.

Cowering on her porch, bruised and battered, was a tiny body about the size of a seven-year-old. In the dim light cast by the streetlamps, the figure could have passed for human if it weren't for the horns curving up from the little troll's skull. As Myra looked more closely at the animal's injuries, a wave of disgust crested inside her gut.

It looked like someone had used the poor thing as a punching bag. A blackened eye stood out most noticeably, then a scalp full of cuts caught Myra's eye. Someone had shaved the troll's head, and done it carelessly- uneven patches and razorburn mottled the skin everywhere there weren't scabs.

The little troll clutched at its side with one hand, the other hung limp, like it was broken and couldn't move. Myra wondered if that wasn't the case, the limb looked oddly lumpy. She stepped out onto the porch to examine the toll's injuries more closely, but it- he? She? Myra couldn't tell, it was so dark, and the troll wore only a hospital gown and scrub pants rolled up several times

Myra stood there stupidly for a second, looking down at the tiny troll staring back up at her. The blackened eye was screwed up, shut tight like it was trying to block something out, or crusted shut. A line of dark liquid ran down the troll's forehead into the left, blackened eye suggested maybe both. Blood, maybe? In the dim light, Myra couldn't be sure. A second passed, then another. And another. And then, unable to silence the pity squeezing her heart, Myra asked, "Do you want to come inside? It's raining out here. I can get you a blanket and some dry clothes, if you want."  
The frail troll climbed shakily to its feet, and with difficulty, Myra supporting the little thing's weight more than it supported itself, the human girl ushered the little troll inside.


	2. MYRA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day rolls around. Things are discovered, changes are made, and an era comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha it's been forever but whatevs. it's chapter two.
> 
> ps. if you're coming back to this after reading it before, you should reread the first chapter, it's been rewritten and some changes have been made.

Morning arrived too soon for Myra's taste. Far, far too soon. After what had happened the night before, she had tossed and turned all night, troubled by the bruises and abrasions on the little troll, after the troll herself had long since fallen asleepand would've liked to sleep a little longer. Rolling over, she groaned at the intruding light from the window. She sank down into her pillows, wishing she could just go back to sleep like any other seventeen-year-old at six AM on a Saturday morning.

Even four years of taking care of the house and bills hadn't cured her dislike of early mornings. Thankfully, she wasn't scheduled to work that day, but there were still plenty of housework to get done. Her mother certainly wasn't going to be springing out of bed to pop in a load of laundry anytime soon.

But even as she lay there, her laundry list of chores crept along in the back of her mind, refusing to let her fall back asleep. Resigned, she dragged her sluggish body out of bed. She shot a baleful glare at the cheerful sunlight shining through her window as she got dressed.

Heaving a sigh, she headed into the hallway to start her day.

Much of her to-do list involved her late-night visitor, the little troll who'd arrived in the rain. Myra peered over the back of the couch from the stairs, craning her neck to see where the child slept. It didn't look like the poor scrap had bled through the bandages. She'd cleaned and bandaged the troll's injuries as soon as she'd gotten the poor thing in the door. Her next move had been to put the kid in some decent clothing.

It had taken a fair amount of looking, but eventually she had found her old childhood clothes where they'd been sitting boxed up in the attic.

And if nothing else, at least she knew the child's name, now. The little troll had been hesitant to tell her, at first, but after some gentle coaxing, Myra had gotten the poor scrap to tell her. _"Sigrid,"_ the little girl had told her, voice so quiet Myra had had to strain to hear her.

So far so good. It looked like whatever hell the poor kid had been through, it hadn't broken her yet. Once she saw Myra wasn't going to hurt her or send her back where she'd come from, the little girl had perked up considerably.

But she was still filthy, and a washcloth could only do so much in place of a real bath. She'd have to see how averse Sigrid was to bubblebath. Myra was pretty sure they still had some lying around, though it had to be years old by now. She didn't think soap went bad, though.

And she'd have to find somewhere for the troll to sleep other than the couch. There was a third bedroom, but it was full of junk. There wasn't even a bed in there. But Myra could clean it out. She'd manage. She always did.

For now, though, Sigrid was asleep on the couch, cocooned in a Powerpuff Girls blanket. Myra had found the blanket in the attic with her childhood clothes and toys, and thought Sigrid might like as much as Myra had as a child. Myra remembered just about crying every time her mother had had to take it away to wash it.

She was still worried, though- someone had to be looking for Sigrid. Trolls were expensive pets, it wasn't like someone would buy one just to let it run away and not try to find it. And from what Myra had learned from Law & Order reruns, abusers didn't just let their victims go.

But the night before, looking at the black eye and mouthful of broken teeth, Myra found a dark pit growing inside her stomach. Whoever came looking for Sigrid, if they came looking, they would not get her back. Not ever.

The little girl whimpered in her sleep as she rolled over on her broken arm. Myra looked over, concerned, but the little girl didn't wake.

Like the possibility of someone coming looking for her, Sigrid's broken arm worried her. Myra wished she knew how to set one, but she didn't. She didn't even have the internet to turn to for help. That had gone the same way as the cable, shut off almost four years ago.

Myra considered her options. Her mother had been a nurse before she'd been a lawyer (before she'd gotten fired), and Myra _could_ shake her awake to set the arm. But whether the woman would be sober enough to actually do it was another thing.

Still, it was Sigrid's best bet. There wasn't enough money to get a vet to do it. Myra had two jobs, and still hardly made enough to keep the utilities on and food in the house. Myra had yet to touch her mother's savings- there wasn't a lot in there, seven thousand last Myra checked. She'd decided to save that for emergencies a long time ago.

So she had decided- she'd go in and wake her mother up, get her to do something useful for once and set Sigrid's arm.

But as she finished folding the laundry and began loading it back into the basket to put away, someone knocked on the front door. She sighed and set down the pair of child's stretch pants she'd been folding. Quietly as she could, she made her way to the door, trying not to wake Sigrid.

Peering through the window in the door, she spotted what looked appeared to be some sort of police officer. Sheriff's deputy, maybe? No, she realized- the pocket said animal control. Her heart seized with panic as she realized he could be here for Sigrid.

Steeling herself against what could be disaster, Myra opened the door. “Hello, officer- is there something I can help you with?”

The man- no, not a man. He was just a boy, only a few years older than her. The boy gave a friendly, if somewhat rueful smile. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but a troll escaped from a medical research facility not far from here. There was a sighting of the troll a few blocks from here, so I've been driving around trying to spot her."

He gestured back towards the Animal Control van parked by the curb. "There's a big purple smudge on the sidewalk in front of your house. I thought it might be worth it to ask if you or anyone in your family has seen anything.”

“Oh,” Myra blinked. "Uh, no, actually. I don't think I have." Escaped from a medical research facility? Sigrid _had_ been wearing scrubs when she showed up at the door. “Besides, I thought medical testing on trolls wasn't allowed anymore.”

"I wish it was. There are laws about it in the works, but nothing's a done deal yet." He shrugged, casting his gaze back to his van, where a middle-aged man sat in the passenger seat, then turned back to Myra. "Anyway, just in case you see the troll, she's about yay high-” he held his hand about four feet off the ground- “and has horns like you'd seen on a viking helmet.” He fumbled in his pocket for a moment. “Here, have a flyer- it has a picture of her on it. If you see anything, let us know.”

Myra accepted the flyer he offered her- it had the number for the local animal control, as well as the police precinct a few miles off. It also bore a picture of Sigrid sitting on a cement floor in a cinderblock cage with a plexiglass front. “She looks so young, like a child,” she said just loud enough for him to hear, doing her best to make it sound like an offhand comment. The boy grimaced.

He looked uncomfortable, and Myra studied him from the corner of her eyes while pretending to read the information on the flyer. She noted his name tag only said "HALE," and had been written in Sharpie. Something about the handwriting tugged at the back of her mind, like she knew it from somewhere.

Shuffling awkwardly, Hale spoke up, voice a bit strained. “I know- look, it doesn't sit right with me, either. Actually, we- she's probably not going back there, even if we find her. Animal control and the area humane society are investigating that company anyway.”

"Oh. Well, good luck, then. I'll call you if I see anything." Myra said, starting to close the door. She did not intend to call him.

He nodded, sighed, and said "Thanks anyway," before turning down the front walk. The middle-aged man in the passenger seat of the van sitting on the curb called out to him.

"Hurry it up, Moineux- we don't have all day!"

Myra's eyes went wide. That's why the handwriting on his name tag seemed familiar- she _did_ know him. "Hale Moineux? Aren't you Jilly's cousin?"

"Huh?" Hale seemed surprised. He blinked. "Oh, yeah. You know her?"

Myra smiled. "Yeah, she's my best friend. I haven't talked to her in a while." She paused, thinking. "If you see her, tell her Myra says hi."

"You're the Myra she keeps talking about? The way she tells it, you just dropped off the face of the Earth.”

Myra winced. “I had to leave school- family thing, you know?- and we don't have internet. I've just been so busy, I haven't had the time to get back in touch. But you'll tell her I said hi, won't you?”

“Sure. Of course I will. I know how it is, family stuff, and Jill's dying to hear from you again." Hale smiled back at her, and gave a wave. "I have to go, but I'll be sure tell her you said hey."

He walked back to the van, waved to her once more, then got in and drove away. Myra waited until the van was out of sight before she closed the door and went back to the laundry. Jilly had noticed Myra's absence, then. It sounded like she worried about her. For a moment, Myra let herself wonder who else from school missed her. How many of her online friends wondered where she'd gone.

She'd tried to forget them, pushed them out of her mind. She hadn't had time to let herself wonder if they missed her as much as she missed them.

She put those thoughts aside for the time, and finished putting everything back in the laundry basket. Sigrid was whimpering inside her blanket cocoon again. Something had to be done about her broken arm.

Myra took a deep breath and walked across the room and into the hallway. She almost lost her nerve in front of her mother's bedroom door, but she steeled herself and pushed the door open.

Myra marched inside. It was dark, smelled like stale air and spilled liquor, and there were clothes scattered across the floor.

She didn't bother with the clothes. Normally, she would've picked them up, put them away or in the laundry and then left, but Sigrid's arm meant she had to get her mother out of bed before she dealt with the clothes. 

Learning that Jilly still missed her had made the old well of resentment open up again. But this time, she was going to do something about it. This time she was going make her mother pick them up herself. But there were more important things to do for now. 

Myra made a beeline for the windows, where she yanked open the curtains, sending clouds of dust flying.

Coughing, she waited until her mother started to groan at the intrusive light. Once the woman was at least half awake, her daughter jerked the covers off of her.

"Get up," Myra ordered, voice firm but not loud. Her mother only groaned and rolled over, mumbling about going back to sleep. "Get _up!_ " Myra ordered again, louder this time.

When her mother still only groaned and mumbled, Myra slid her hands under the edge of the mattress and lifted it up. Her mother rolled off onto the floor. Myra let the edge of the bed fall back down.

"Don't you dare get back in that bed," Myra barked. "You're going to get up, put some clothes on, and get your shit together. I've let you lie around and sulk for four years. Now it's time for you to get off your ass and do something useful for once. I'm giving you five minutes. If you're not up and dressed when I come back in here you don't even want to think about what I'm going to do."

Myra marched out of the room, despite her anger, she felt lighter than she had in years. She knew that had to be done now. She was finally going to do what she should have done four years ago but had been too afraid to do.

She went into the kitchen, emptied the cabinets of liquor bottles, and then poured them all down the sink, one by one.

It was time for her mother to grow up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ye
> 
> things are going to change for the better in the Arkens household. Mrs. Arkens is gonna be real surprised at all the changes her daughter's had to make. surprised, and ashamed that her daughter had to make those changes. and also just a little bit proud. but mostly she's going to be cranky, hungover, and confused.


End file.
